Patriot
by Turion
Summary: Based of the film, 'The Patriot,' a slave girl and her young master brave the most infamous war in American history. Their freshly found love wilting before it even began to blossom. What will become of them? What will become of the newly born nation?
1. Chapter 1

**This is my newest creation? For a while I've had this story shoved in my pocket, so to speak and tonight, I saw the movie that inspired me to write it and thought, why not publish this dang thing already? So, I hope you enjoy. This was based off the movie, 'The Patriot' and is coinsidentally named, 'The Patriot' and I hope you enjoy this. This story will have many different twists and turns to it, it will not, as all my stories, follow exactly the path of the movie. It will be original, yet not at the same time.**

** Please, read and enjoy. Let me know what you think, if it is something worth continuing. I've had this nag for combining historical legends with this pairing...why? No clue, but I am in love with history. Also, this weekend, I have been in a writing frenzy, again why? No clue. But I hope you enjoy this tale and let me know what you guys think. This is one of those stories that depends greatly on its readers/reviewers. If you like it, love it, hate it, tell me. Your thoughts do mean something!**

**This first chapter is in first person, from Katara's point of view. Enjoy! (I think I've said that a million times already!)**

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Canons roared with such sunder, the earth trembled in their wake. The simplistic chandelier shook softly, the flames flickering as if stroked by the breeze. Only on this night, the air was till, the atmosphere consumed by a thick fog, lifting above the summer crops. War was upon us, it had been ever since the defiant act of the revolutionaries. To spit in the face of King Ozai of England was treacherous, an act that would not go unpunished.

The master hadn't joined us for dinner. I watched over his children as they ate silently, noticing the small flickering of their eyes from one to the other as the sounds of war drew nearer. My heart thudded wildly in my chest as I placed a comforting hand on Lee, Jyro's second oldest son. All throughout the course of their meal, it was Lee who seemed to be more interested in the occurrences outside the plantation home than the dinner that was placed before him. I smiled tenderly down at him, trying to calm the anxiety that raged within him. He not but a year my junior and I was looking after him and his siblings as if I were their own mother. His eldest brother, Zuko was only two years my senior and the moment he had turned eighteen, enlisted in the revolutionaries military.

I remembered when the family and I had left the plantation for Charles Town to visit the children's aunt Wu while their father was summoned to a towns meeting. Revolutionaries had gathered to convince several of the state's leaders that war with England was inevitable and the only way to separate ourselves from a tyrant three thousand miles away was to act in war. My master, Jyro had been against the idea of war. He declared that he was a father and that he had no right to openly choose the fate of his fellow townsmen or his children. Several of the town's leaders had been upset by his declaration. He was a man who was once fervent in the military. He was a captain far beyond his years in his youth, who now was determined to be a stalemate in the actions that would determine the future of this new breeding country, America.

I recalled the words Jyro had so openly stated in front of the entire town's council the day we were in Charles Town. Lee was kind enough to reenact such a…brilliant moment of the master's. He said that Jyro stood tall and proud as he approached several of his fellow councilmen and stated, "What point is there to break ties with a Tyrant three thousand miles away, only to be ruled by three thousand Tyrants one mile away?" Those words bore permanent wholes in my brain. There was a point to his madness. But it was after such boldness to reject the idea of a new country, a new America, that Zuko, Jyro's eldest enlisted. It was his own way of a personal rebellion against his father and the moment Zuko signed his life over to the cause, he was no longer his father's little boy. He was a man.

"Katara," Azula's soft voice called to me, her eyes glancing wearily up at me. She was only sixteen years old and yet, she was much more mature than she appeared. War had changed her, war changes all, but it seemed that it affected her far more than it had her siblings. Her mother had died when she was only a little girl, raised by a slave, me, who was only three years her senior. It had been a difficult patch for her, for me. I didn't know the first thing about raising children, but, with the help of my master, I was able to connect with the children in their time of need. Not as a motherly figure, as I am now, but as a friend, someone who understood their loss, their pain. I smiled with as much tenderness as I could as I rounded the table, kneeling myself before her.

Small black locks littered her face, with a simple brush of my fingers, they were gone, "Yes, Azula?"

A soft sigh escaped her lips she played with her food on her plate, shifting it around in small circles, over and over. For a moment she glanced my way, then looked back down at her plate with a heavy huff, "Where's father?"

My heart tightened slightly. To be honest, I didn't know where the master had gone. I only knew that he had not attended dinner. Last I saw him, he was out in the barn, attempting at making another rocking chair…every time he failed miserably at making such a delicacy.

"I don't know Azula, last I saw him he was in the barn," I began, but movement in the hallway caught my attention. A man staggered towards the dining hall, blood coating his white cotton shirt. The shadow of the hallway casted across his face, but his eyes gleamed in the darkness. They were so familiar. Slowly I moved away from the table, padding softly towards the doorway, watching as he merely stood there, as if waiting for me. I wiped my hands with the makeshift apron that wrapped around my waist, resting gently on my skirt. I was surprised that the children didn't see him, but I suppose it was due to the fact that the doorway was sealed slightly, a small crack about the width of a man's hand being the only opening. Perhaps the only reason why I knew he was there was because I happened to look up, or perhaps because I felt an eerie presence of someone's eyes watching us. Whatever it was, I noticed him and I would confront him, but not before the children. I didn't want to alert them, or scare them.

Suddenly, the cocking sound of a hammer caught not only my attention and the attention of the man, but it also caught the children's undivided attention. The small gasps made me tear my eyes away from the scene in the hall, and quickly comfort them.

"Turn around slowly," I heard the master's rugged voice command the stranger.

Looking up, I watched as the stranger turned away from me and the children, staggering slightly with a disgruntled groan, "Father," he breathed out helplessly and I suddenly heard a flurry movement in the hall, watched as the master now held the man who had nearly collapsed. For the first time since I caught sight of him, I saw his face revealed by the candle light of the dining room.

"Zuko," his name escaped my lips helplessly as the children flung from their chairs and bolted for the hallway.

Jyro stood, wrapping Zuko's arm around his shoulders, "Katara," his voice called to me, "the children," he didn't need to say any more. I exited the dining room, my arms encompassing the smaller three, rushing them up the stairs.

"Children come," I called to Lee and Azula, knowing that I could not herd them like cattle.

Azula and Lee followed me quickly up the stairs, or so I thought. As I took the younger children up to bed to prepare them for sleep, I noted that all were present except for Lee. I took a deep breath as I helped Ani change into her night gown, and Tero and Chen in theirs. Azula helped put Ani to bed as I rounded the two boys up and shuffled them to their room.

"Goodnight," I whispered tenderly as I bent over, my lips grazing their foreheads.

They smiled up at me as they curled up underneath their blankets, "Goodnight, Katara," they whispered back. I stood after adjusting the blankets underneath their chins, before blowing out the lone candle that lit the room. Slowly I closed the door behind me, hearing their voices carry soft whispers to one another.

Slowly I peered into Azula and Ani's room, watching as Azula tucked little Ani into bed, whispering tenderly to her. Praying perhaps and I wished to not bother them. So, I turned away, making my way down the steps where I ran into Lee sitting there, listening to Master Jyro and young Master Zuko's conversation.

My hand came down on his shoulder firmly and with a pleading look, I wished him to bed. With an apprehensive gaze, he sighed heavily before standing, meeting me face to face. He nodded respectfully to me before trudging up the stairs to his room in silence. After a moment or two, I stood there on the stairs, listening to Zuko's painful gasps and his father's scowling remarks. Jyro hadn't appreciated Zuko's rebellious actions, but there was a hint of tenderness in his voice when he reprimanded Zuko.

Carefully I walked down the steps, my hand gripping firmly onto the railing as I met with the leveled floor. The light from the room where Zuko was being tended to lit up my face halfway as I peered in.

"Master," I called softly, pressing myself into the room, "the children have been put to bed," for a moment I glanced over at Zuko, seeing golden gaze brighten at the sight of me. A soft smile, despite the pain that consumed his body, graced his lips. I loved seeing his smile, the way it made me melt inside and my heart flutter uncontrollably. I felt like a silly girl in love rather than a slave serving her master.

"Is there anything you require of me?" I asked hesitantly.

Jyro glanced between Zuko and I, sighing heavily before pushing himself from his stool, "Tend to his wounds," he was short in his command, "I've cleaned what I could, but there are still wounds to be tended to."

I nodded as he brushed past me, giving his son one long lasting look over his shoulder before disappearing behind the closed door. For a moment I pressed my hands down against my skirt, straightening any flaws it may have held before walking towards Zuko on the bed, my hand dipping into the pot filled with blood soaked water. I pulled out the heavy rag, weighed down by the mass amounts of water that were absorbed in its embrace. My tattered, weathered hands wrung the rag until it had very little water to give up before taking it to Zuko's pale chest, caressing his wounds gently.

I felt his eyes upon me, watching me steadily as I tended to his cuts and scrapes carefully. The wound that had been inflicted by the bullet had already been well dressed and cleaned. The bullet lied not only a few inches away from the bucket of water in a small tin pan. Sighing, after several moments of silence, I glanced up at him to see his eyes locked on me as if he hadn't seen me in years. To be truthful, it had been two years since we had laid eyes on one another, but not once did we miss a beat in writing to one another. He had matured greatly since we had last seen one another. He had become stronger, taller, leaner, but still retained a muscular tone to his body. His face was thinner now, more mature than what it had been when he left and his eyes, still smoldering with emotions that I could not explain. I wondered how much I too had changed since we last saw one another, but decided not to dwell on such thoughts as I continued to tend to his wounds.

It was his voice that startled me, breaking the silence that rested between us, "It's nice to see you again, Katara," it was low and rugged, much like his father's, but there something about it that made her weak in the knees. Luckily she was sitting on the bedside, so collapsing wouldn't be possible.

"As it is you, young master," I remembered my respectful teachings. After all, he was still the son of my master, no matter how close we had grown during our youth. He was a freed man and I a slave. When I looked up at him as I drew my hand away, I noted the disappointment etched into his features, and I quickly wondered if I had missed a wound perhaps. Carefully I dipped the cloth back into the bucket before pulling it back out and wringing it dry. I examined his torso carefully and began lightly grazing it over his sculpted chest. I hadn't missed anything, so I didn't understand the pained look that crossed his features.

Slowly I began to pull my hand away, but his calloused, blood stained hand reached out quickly, his fingers winding tightly round my wrist. I watched, with a hitched breath as he pulled my hand closer towards him, pulling the cloth from my grasp. His fore finger traced the lines of my palm as he eased it open. Such a simple act caused my heart to flutter and I couldn't help but blush when he pulled it to his lips, their soft tenderness grazing my flesh. My breathing became shallow as I slowly pulled my hand from his grasp, clearing my throat as I placed the rag into the bucket.

"Is there anything else you need young master?" I asked hesitantly.

Again his features were etched with an emotion that I couldn't quite place, but I decided to cover my own emotions with a placid, obeying mask. Zuko licked his lips slightly as his teeth bore into his bottom lip, but after a moment he gave a heavy sigh before shaking his head at me, "No, thank you Katara."

I stood, smoothing out my dress before folding my hands before me, bowing slightly, "Goodnight, young master," slowly I turned away from him, my fingers grasping hold of the door handle.

"Goodnight, Katara." I smiled to myself as I heard the way he spoke my name, before pushing myself out into the hall, my back pressing firmly against the door that separated me from Zuko. After a moment or two of adjusting myself, I pulled away from the door, my hands absentmindedly reaching up to my braided bun before walking further down the hall to my sleeping quarters.

But, before I had the chance to do anything to prepare for bed, the sound of canons rattled my mind. The house shook slightly and I could see the flickering flashes of light exploding through the thick fog that rested atop the crops. My heart thudded wildly in my chest, they were so close! I turned on my heel, running straight into master Jyro, swallowing my scream quickly. He pulled me down the hallway to the front door. There we witnessed the horrid scenes of battle. Blue, like the color of a man's veins in his body ran through the crops, headed west, running away from something. Red, like the color of a man's blood chased after those in blue. Gunshots were fired, canons were unleashed, and the agonizing screams of death and desperation filled the night air. My thoughts suddenly swam towards the children! I didn't want them to see this; I didn't want them to be alone up there either.

Quickly I ran from the front porch up the stairs and into the girls' bedroom. Lee, Chen and Tero were huddled together with Azula and Ani, staring out the window desperately watching the battle below.

"Children," I chided, "come away from there," I waved my hand towards me, commanding them to draw their attention from the scene outside.

After several minutes, I had them all snuggled together in one bed, singing a soft tune to them, trying to lull them to sleep. Once the younger children had fallen victim to slumber, I noted that both Lee and Azula were still awake and motioned them to follow me. Slowly they pried themselves from the bed, creeping away from the children as they slept soundly. They followed me down the stairs and out onto the porch. There we found Zuko and Jyro standing there, watching the scene before them.

"Katara," the master called to me without even looking at me, "Lee, Azula, prepare bandages and fresh water. The wounded will need tending too."

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**So, what did you think guys?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A: Holy crap! That's a lot of reviews for the first chapter! Yeah! You guys loved it! Awesome! Ok, so enough of the whole ! thing lol. So, here is the next chapter, I've been editing and working on my other stories, so sorry if this is kinda short...hope you enjoy and hey, keep those reviews coming. You have no idea how much your words help me continue writing! Thanks guys!**

**Katara's Point of View:**

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Blood. Everywhere I turned, blood invaded my vision. Bodies, marred by the horrors of war scattered about the porch and the yard before the plantation home. The battlefield, which, at one point was land to be cropped, now coated with the bodies of the dead. Blue and red littered the land, bandages wrapped round wounds and tattered clothes laid a strung round them. Moans filled my ears, screams that held horrors I couldn't even begin to imagine, roared from time to time as I and the other slaves of the household tended to their wounds. War was wretched thing, but, at times a necessary course of action ever so often. Is it necessary perhaps now? I don't know the answer, but I do know that I wish it would have occurred elsewhere.

I remember when I accompanied the master and his children to Charles Town, in the same meeting of the town council, that my master had made an evident point. I remember Lee saying, that his father warned, "This war will not be fought on the frontier or on some distant battlefield, but amongst us, our homes. Our children will learn of it with their own eyes and the innocent will die with the rest of us."

Even now, as I recall those words, I feel bile rising up my throat as I wipe the sweat from my brow, desperately wishing for a fan. I need a break, and so, lazily I lean against the house, fanning myself with my hand as I gaze out at the destruction, the devastation, and the horror of the scene before me. The children finished with their attentions, single file into the house, to wash their bodies of the sweat and blood that coat their skin. To rid the grunge caked beneath their finger nails and to change out of their soiled clothing. We had done all that we could, those who were savable we brought up from the battle grounds to the house. Those who were unable to save, we left to die a lonely death. The children as well as myself, were virgins to war, but the master and Zuko, they had witnessed such happenings first hand and were able to keep a cool about them that I found rather hard to accomplish. But I reminded myself, it was for the children, I had to be strong, for the children. I, who was like a second mother to them, could not cry, could not allow my resolve to burst…not now, not ever.

I watch for a moment as I note Zuko exiting the house, buttoning up his tunic. His eyes surveyed the wounded, noting that both sides had ample of soldiers down and tried to stray from the red coats. I saw his gaze flicker my way and could help but wipe the sweat the continued to collect across my brow. Blood smeared my face. My hands, soaked. As if I dipped them in a pool of blood. My dress, marred and tattered, coated with blood and other bodily fluids from these dying soldiers. How unattractive I must look right now. But, instead of giving me a disgusted look, he merely nods to me, a smile on his lips. And as swiftly as he came, he left, approaching his father to discuss matters.

Turning my attention elsewhere, I begin to see red seeping from the crop lines, like blood rushing out of a freshly opened wound. Soldiers, red coats were moving in on the plantation, and for some reason, I could feel my heart plummeting to the pit of my stomach. Slowly, I push myself off the wall of the house, straightening out my dress somewhat and begin to attend to the wounded once more. I hated soldiers, especially the red coats. They believed that all those who were of the American colonies were separatists to the crown and deemed them the enemy…even if they truly supported King Ozai. A friend, Jin, who was a slave for a family south of here was raped and killed because she was, 'American,' as they are calling us now. Not because of the color of her skin, but because of the nation she lived in. Though, America wasn't even a fully realized nation. It was weak, a child, newly born into the world of nations ten times its age with a birthing government and idealists. It wasn't America, not yet. Not until after this war and not until after it began to buckle down and begin an order. Until then, it was just a dream, an idea…nothing more. What is ink and parchment if all else has failed? Simply words.

"Thank you for tending to his majesty's soldiers," I heard a voice stated. Looking behind me, I noted a red coat, a captain if you will, speaking to the master, his eyes roaming over Zuko's features for a moment or two. Master Jyro simply nodded as the captain turned away, ordering his men to gather their wounded and leave the rebel wounded be. An honorable thing to do, one of the very few that I have heard of. So far in this war, there has been nothing but merciless killings, leaving no prisoners behind. All who fell victim to the enemy, died.

Suddenly, the earth began to rumble, the whining and grunting of horses reached my ears and I noted that the already pale captain, blanched at the site. His lips that drew a thin line parted as he held his breath, his eyes sweeping from my master to every wounded man on the plantation. I noted that the other slaves halted in their attentions to the soldiers, standing to watch as these men on horses road closer until they were literally only a few meters away from the front porch. A man with fine black hair, sat proud and tall atop his mighty steed. His narrow beaded eyes bore holes into everything his eyes grazed over. His snout looked like it would spew poison and his nose scrunched up in disgust. Everything about him screamed terror, I didn't like him and soon, I would hate him.

"Lieutenant, have our men take our wounded to our surgeons in Winsbrook," his voice was hard and cold, sending chills up my spine.

"Yes sir," a petty voice responded, but I couldn't seem to locate the owner. I was too focused on this man. On what he was going to order next to truly care.

The man, who I assume was in charge continued, his eyes wavering over the plantation, "Fire the house and barns," his sick, condescending tone echoed in my ears, "let it be known if you harbor the enemy," his stared into master Jyro's eyes, "you will lose your home." A sick smirk plastered his lips, one that I would have gladly liked to slap off. He quickly turned his attention to several slaves that had gathered together to watch the sight and for the first time, I felt my heart breaking by his words, "By standing order of his majesty King Ozai, any and all slaves of the American Colonies who fight for the crown, will be granted their freedom with our victory," I watched as William, my closest friend slowly stepped out from the group, his pleading eyes glancing towards me before glancing over at the master.

"Sir, we're not slaves, we work this land," a smile graced my lips as I heard his attempt to stay, "as freed men," several soldiers burrowed past him, causing him to lose thought for a single moment, giving the arrogant bastard on the horse the opportunity to speak.

His tongue clicked, slithering like a serpent's, "Well if you freed men will have the opportunity and the privilege to serve in the king's army," he spat out, his tone getting colder with each word. I watched as William and the others looked to master Jyro for instruction, but saw that he only nodded his head, giving them the direction they were forced to see. William swallowed hard, giving me a look filled with sorrow as soldiers began to round him and the others up. It was true what William had said. We were freed slaves, treated as equals here by our master, who I still called master due to force of habit. We were told that if we did not wish to work the land, tend to the family and enjoy the company of a few white folk, that we were more than welcomed to part. But the thing was, we knew we wouldn't find such freedom much elsewhere and, the Martin family had grown on all of us, because we were practically raised by Jyro and his wife. Most of us slaves, well, freed workers who were under twenty years of age. There were a few who were above the mark, who had helped raise us younger ones, but not many. The Martin's were like family, and family stuck together.

I felt a breeze of wind rush past me as a soldier exited the home and quickly my thoughts rushed to the children. How had he gone past me without me even taking note of him? In his hands was a leather satchel, inside several parchments that Zuko was carrying with him last night. Dispatches. He was a dispatch rider and had only stopped by the plantation due to his impending wounds.

"Dispatches sir," the soldier handed the leather satchel to the man mounting the horse and I immediately saw both Zuko and Jyro stiffen as he tore through the dispatches. His face became contorted with anger and I knew, I knew that something terrible was bound to happen.

He looked around, his eyes meeting almost everyone of us as his horse seemed to approached the house inch by inch, "Who carried this?" he asked almost in a normal tone. But when no one answered his question, he thrust the dispatches into the air, his voice rising wildly, "Who carried this?"

Zuko cleared his throat, my mind raced as I began to approach him, "I did sir," he pressed his way through his siblings and father, walking down the steps closer towards the horseman. I noted the way he looked at Zuko, astounded that a rebel would give himself up willingly, "I was wounded," Zuko began, gesturing back towards us, "these people gave me care. They have nothing to do with the dispatches."

My hearts suddenly sank as I realized what would happen next and I found myself wrapping my arms around the children, holding them close to me. Jyro slowly approached Zuko, but not too noticeably.

"Take this one to camp," the horseman handed the dispatches back to the soldier who presented them to him in the first place, and continued, "he's a spy. Hang him and put his body on display," I suddenly felt the bile return to my throat, threatening to escape as I heard the words leave the horseman's lips. I saw Zuko stiffen and could only imagine his facial features when he too heard the words just spoken.

Jyro, so willing to save his son's life brazen in his efforts, stepped forth, "He's a dispatched rider and that's a marked case," Jyro tried to reason as the red coats began to bind Zuko's hands with rope.

"Dispose of the livestock, save the horses for the Calvary," the man ignored Jyro's plea and began patting his horse's neck.

"Colonel," Jyro turned to his son, trying to hold him place to keep the soldiers from taking him, "this is a uniformed dispatch rider and that is a marked case," he turned to the horseman, approaching him, "he cannot be held as a spy."

The man's face contorted into a smirk as he looked down at Jyro, "We're not going to hold him," he began, a since of wicked humor on his tongue, "we're going to hang him."

"Colonel," Jyro began once more but was cut off by Zuko's disgruntled, 'Father.'

The horseman caught on quickly and gave and amusing glance between father and son, "Oh, I see," I felt my heart being ripped apart as I watched helplessly with the children clung to me for all that was in them, "he's your son. Well perhaps you should have taught him something about loyalty," I cringed, Zuko was loyal, loyal to a cause he believed to be true and just.

Jyro's voice broke my thoughts, "Colonel, I beg of you," I watched as he gazed up at the soldier, mounted studiously on his steed, "by the rules of war—"

Suddenly, the cocking of a hammer rang in my ears and the soldier snapped back harshly, cutting Jyro off, "By the rules of war," he pulled his pistol, aiming it at Jyro's chest, "would you like me to teach you a lesson on the rules of war?" it was a rhetorical question, but I watched as his gaze flickered towards me and the children, "Or perhaps your children might," he suggested and I found myself pulling back gasping children, forcing them behind me, ready to take the first bullet.

Jyro rushed to our aid, holding his arms up in the air, Zuko struggled in his confines and I felt the children tighten their grasp on my skirt, "None of this is necessary," Jyro declared.

The horseman merely smirked at us before pulling back his pistol, gesturing for the soldiers to take Zuko away. I felt relief that he did not follow through with his empty threat, but felt my mind and heart screaming in agony as I watched them drag Zuko away.

Jyro turned to us, whispering softly as he tried to come up with some sort of plan that would free Zuko, "Father," Lee whined, "do something!" his voice was harsh as he desperately glanced back between his brother and Jyro.

"Be quite," Jyro snapped as he tried to continue thinking.

I watched as they bound Zuko to the wagon, tightening the ropes round his hands even more. I cringed as I watched them pull with such force that he hissed in pain as blood began to draw. But something else had my heart racing and it was too late to stop. Lee, out of the corner of my eye bolted from the porch, his body screaming with action as he yelled, slamming into one of the soldiers, knocking him away from Zuko, "Zuko!" he yelled, "RUN!" But it was far too late for Zuko to run. One soldier still had a hold of him, while the ropes still bounded him to the wagon.

Jyro turned in time to begin to sprint towards his son, "Lee!" he yelled, "Lee!" and as if all else blurred away, he yelled with such sunder that I felt my heart stop, "Wait!" I watched in sheer horror as the horseman drew his pistol, everything seemed to happen in slow motion and heard the hammer of the pistol slam back into place. The bullet firing from the barrel and imbedding itself into Lee's back. I watched, as Lee bucked at the impact, sinking in a disgraceful heap onto the ground.

"LEE!" Zuko yelled as the wagon began to move, forcefully pulling Zuko with it. He struggled and screamed as he looked back at his brother's corpse, now cradled in Jyro's arms, tears streaming down his pale face. I ran as fast as my feet could carry me to Lee's body, dropping myself on my knees, taking his head from his father's hands and placing it in my lap. He was suddenly so pale, his body felt so cold and he began to sake with such fury that I bit my lip in fear, waiting for death to take him. His golden orbs, once so lively and full were slowly beginning to dull as he stared blankly up at the autumn leaves dangling off the branches over head and I felt the tears drowned against my blood covered face. His grip on my arm that cradled the back of his head slackened, and in the matter of seconds, Lee was dead.

"Stupid boy," I heard that disdainful voice call out and I couldn't help but glare up at him with all the hatred I could muster, "take the slave. She'll serve with the surgeons back at camp." He ordered and I felt two sets of strong hands latch onto my arms, pulling me away from Lee, from Jyro, from the children.

Their screams filled my ears as I was dragged away, taken to the same cart in which Zuko had been tied to and found my hands also bound just as he. Our eyes met, reflecting the loathing passion that began to muster in the pit of our souls. Tears stained our marred features, running salty trails down our faces. Cries from the children grip our hearts, forcing us to turn back, only to feel our hearts sinking as there is nothing we can do. Lee is gone, dead. Lost to us forever, all in the effort of trying to save his brother from such said fate and now, he was the one who paid the price. It is here, now, at this very moment as I watch Lee's lifeless corpse lying there in the dust, that I vow to avenge him in any way that I can. A promise, I shall not soon forget.

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**So what did you guys think? **


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Alright, so here is the next chapter, I hope you guys enjoy it! Happy mother's day by the way!

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**Katara's Point of View:**

The air was still, the sounding of gentle hooves beating against the beaten path was all that I could hear. There were a few grunts here and there form the horses, few from the men, but truthfully, it was a deafening silenced that chilled me to the bone. Something wasn't right, the air was thick, my heart began to race wildly in my chest. I couldn't help but sense a presence near, one that was familiar, but yet at the same time alien. The ropes that bound my hands together, tugged tightly at her wrists, pulling me continuously behind the wagon, Zuko at my side, dragging just as equally. His face, horror ridded, his body stiff and rigid. He was angry, he was fearful, his heart, filled with hatred. A burning loathsome feeling consumed him.

The horses began to fidget slightly in their step, their whines became more…desperate and I found myself pushing closer to Zuko, as if a form of comfort came over me in his closeness. Desperately I strained against my confines, my eyes darting around the woods hopelessly searching…but for what? And then it came. A shot, ringing out, echoing off the tress. The horses bolted, soldiers scattered and then, another shot. Zuko ducked down, pulling me with him, pressing me between him and the cart. I could hear his heart pounding wildly in his chest, I could feel his breathing stagger as a soldier dropped dead, bullet between the eyes.

I found myself gripping his blue coat fiercely, pushing my face into his chest as shots surrounded us. Shouts engulfed us and then, I saw it…a man, darting between the trees, a shadow of a man at least. He was fast, impossibly so, the British soldiers were unable to take aim on him and then, another shot. Zuko's hands gripped my back, pressing me further into him as another soldier near us fell victim to death. I shivered in fear, my knuckles turning white as I pulled Zuko closer to me, as if to protect me from harm. His breathing brushed against my neck, his hands gripping the cloth of my dress tightly, his warmth consuming me. Suddenly, he was pulled from my grasp, ripped from me in a last act of desperate attempt to gain some leverage over the shadowed enemy. I stood n horror, screaming for them to release him, watching as the red coat pressed a steal blade at Zuko's neck. Watching him crane backwards slightly and his eyes mold with fear, my heart began to thud wildly in my chest.

I tried pulling myself from the wagon, the ropes cutting small fibers into my wrists, "Please!" I yelled desperately struggling with my confines, my dress thrashing and swishing round me, mud tapering the hems. And it was then, I saw him.

Master Tyro emerged from the trees, tomahawk drawn in one hand, knife in the other. His face, consumed with blind rage as he botched and butchered several soldiers who still remained. I stood still, I could feel my eyes widening as I witnessed the distressed horror, the hatred that consumed my master as he continued to hack away at the several soldiers, until finally it was just him, me, Zuko and the remaining red coat.

I stood, watching as Tyro slowly pulled the tomahawk back, his eyes hardened with concentration, but there was something else, hesitation perhaps? Suddenly I heard him inhale air through his mouth, watched as the tomahawk flew from his hands, embedding itself into the soldier's skull. I turned quickly, watching as the knife slid across the right hand side of Zuko's throat, hearing him groan in pain as he cupped his wound. His eyes met mine for the briefest moment before we whirled around at the sound of someone running and watched as the master ripped the tomahawk from the dead corpse and threw it with such a bone chilling precision into the fleeing soldier's back. He fell in one swoop, plummeting down into a small creek, his body face down with the tomahawk protruding from his back. Tyro, enraged bolted, hurdling over the fallen tree root that lay in his way, splashing water around everywhere. As he ripped the weapon from the back of his enemy, Tero and Chen appeared from the woods, muskets in their hands and began cutting the ropes that bound both Zuko and I. They gave us a comforting smile, the children embraced me tightly but soon our embrace was ended when we heard disgruntled screams coming from where the master had gone to retrieve his weapon.

Hacking, splashing of water, grunting mixed with over emotional crying. We stood there, like fear struck children as Tyro stood from the dead corpse and rounded on us, blood mixed with mud coated his body, his eyes flickered with such pain that I couldn't help but rush to his side. I held out my hand, begging him to take it, and to my relief, he did. But only for a mere second. The next thing I knew was he had wrapped himself around me, his head burying itself in the nape of my neck. A warm wetness coated my exposed flesh, his hands, fingers, dug into the my back painfully as we slowly sank to the ground. His wailing was too much to bare and I too found myself crying softly as I tried to calm his spirits.

Cooing softly, I looked over at the children, "Shhh master, shhh," I watched as they tear up, slowly approaching us and my eyes locked with Zuko's. So many different emotions swarmed within the depths of those golden pools that I was almost too weary to look any further. But when I saw his apologetic smile, I felt a comforting warmth engross me. I continued to cradle the man who was like a father to me on the forest floor, his children gathering around us like tiny sheep, kneeling before us, their heads bowing as if to pray.

But what prayer could we have offered? God had taken away our dear Lee without warning. Destroyed our land and home that was so dear to us and allowed soldiers to take away another son, to release a monster in my master and murderers out of two innocent children. What prayer could we have offered that would begin to succumb to the betrayal that we had witnessed?

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**Zuko's Point of View:**

I watched her, that graceful, delicate creature as she cradled what remained of my deranged father. Bile had risen to my esophagus as I watched him hack away mercilessly at the British soldiers. His eyes held no mercy, held nothing but hatred and sadness, two things which drove a man insane. I had never witnessed my father this way, nor would I ever again wish to witness this horror, but what could I expect? They had killed Lee in cold blood, my little brother who was only trying to help me, a young man who was not even a soldier and yet, he lost his life, a farmer's son.

Tears weld in my eyes as mine meet with hers, she too cries softly as she holds my father. For all my life I've known Katara, but only in the past few years have I truly gotten to know her, the way any young man should a young woman. She is kind, beautiful, obedient and knowledgeable, but she is a slave. Most look down on that, I however embrace it. All my life she has been there for me, when my mother died, she helped raise me. Me, a boy two years her senior, being raised by a little girl. Before I looked on it as an insult, but now, when I look back on it, I realize that she was just as lost and scared as I was and that truthfully, she did a better job than anyone else ever could. She helped piece my family back together and I find that while I am away at war, I can't think of anything else. I wrote letters to her to keep me sane and I always found myself lost in her words when she would reply back to me. Her writing was so delicate, so beautiful, for a slave, she was highly educated, even more than some white men. It was things like this that drew me too her. Over the course of the few years that I was gone, I found that I missed her presence. I missed the way she would snap at me if doing something wrong, the way she would laugh at one of my horrid jokes or that smile, those pearl white teeth shimmering in the sun like diamonds. And, even now, after those few years, she has grown into a mature young woman, a desirable one in fact.

But I cannot think of such things at this time, not after all that I've lost, all that I have suffered. My mind should be focused on my next move, what I need to do and where I need to get my family before I rejoin my ranks. This is what I should be concerned with, not the exotic creature holding my father together with such tiny threads.

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**Katara's Point of View:**

After we had our moment, I gathered my master together, "We need to get back to Azula and Ani," I whispered softly, pulling my master up to his feet. He took a deep breath, wiping the mud and blood from his face with the tomahawk in hand. For a moment we all stood there in silence, I straightened out my dress, wiped the blood on my already soiled apron then reached out for Tero and Chen, "come on boys, let's get back to your sisters."

With that, the boys and I headed back towards the burning plantation, "Their hidden in the fields," Chen whispered, as if there was someone listening in on us.

I nodded as I tightened my grip on their hands, my eyes glanced from one to the other and I felt a sadness overcome me. Tero was the third oldest boy, no older than eleven and Chen was merely seven years old. Both boys had witnessed war first hand, both had killed first hand and they had seen things that no child should ever see.

While we walked however, I noticed that the master and Zuko were not following us and I wondered for the briefest moment what was keeping them. But as I thought of turning around, I heard the sound of a wagon pulling up behind us and turned with either boy in my hands to see Tyro and Zuko in the wagon.

"Climb on," Zuko offered his hand to me, but I quickly let go of the children, helping the boys up one by one. After they had climbed into the wagon, Zuko extended his hand out to me, blood coating it, "give me your hand, Katara," he stated, and I being in the state not to argue, obliged.

We rode for several minutes before reaching the plantation. The boys were silent, gathered at my feet as I sat on a small barrel of gun powder. Zuko and his father sat at the front of the wagon, Tyro directing the horses with the reins, and I noted that Zuko would glance over his shoulder ever so often, his eyes always meeting mine for the briefest moment before averting to Tero and Chen. I sighed inwardly as we play coyly for a while, but drive my thoughts to the girls, hoping for their well being. Once we strode down the long drive of the plantation, Azula and Ani pop up from the corn stock, running madly towards the wagon. I lean over the side, reaching down to help Ani onto the wagon, then I lend my hand to Azula. Tyro and Zuko abandon us for a few moments to gather some belongings that would suit us on our journey…where?

After they got back to the wagon, we left our home. I watched as the children all turned to watch the plantation home shrinking slowly, until finally it disappeared from our sight, "Father," Azula called to Tyro, her head resting in my lap, "where are we to go now that we have no home?"

Tyro kept his tone soft, somber and filled with no emotion, deadpanned in a sense, "We're going to your Aunt Wu's."

The children's aunt was a lovely woman in her mid thirties. She was the younger sister of the children's mother, a beautiful woman with a delicate face, rosy lips and gentle grey eyes. Her hair was a dark auburn brown with sheds of grey streaking from either side of the temple, showing her aging as one of grace. The children were fond of her, they loved her and while we were in Charles Town before, we had stayed with her. But, ever since the war broke out, the British had taken control of Charles Town, leaving the children's aunt to flee to her plantation south of here. That was where we were going, that was where we would stay. What would become of us once we arrived? I had no idea, but all I knew was that things were going to change gravely and I don't know if the children are willing to accept, let alone brave such changes just yet.

As night falls, I wrap the blankets that were stored away in the wagon around the children. Zuko creeps to the back, offering me one as well. Kindly I take it as he practically wraps it round my form and sits down next to me with Chen curled up in his lap. I watch as he strokes his little brother's hair, his eyes flickering from one sleeping child to the next, then up to his father's back and then to me. We exchange soft smiles as we continue cradling the children close to our bodies, inhaling the fresh southern night air.

"Thank you," Zuko finally whispers to me, and I cannot help but wonder what for, "for watching over them while I was away."

I smiled, "What else is a slave to do?" I asked, not truly realizing the sting my question affected him. I watched him wince slightly, but he regained his composer before continuing on with his little banter.

"That's not what I meant," he began and I nodded, "you know that your are more than a slave to them, to my father," he paused slightly as if hesitating and I wondered if there was something wrong, I leaned closer to him, to ask him if he was alright but he quickly recovered, "to me," our eyes met and I couldn't help but feel myself blush as I looked away.

"Your family has been like my own since I was little," I began, my fingers running delicately through Ani's hair, "but, in the eyes of many, I am just a slave. I cannot hope to be anything more than this," I shrugged my shoulders, my eyes never locking with his.

For a while there was silence between us, we rode for the rest of the night like this. The moon was high above us, the wolves howled to it and the creatures of the night were aroused by it. For most of the ride I could hear the chirping of the crickets, the buzzing of the bees, the hoots of the owls and the soft padding of the leaves by the mule deer that grazed happily in the night. Finally, after what seemed like hours, we made it to the children's aunt's plantation home. The long drive stretched for about a good half mile before we truly reached the house and when we did, we were flooded by slaves of the household, their tones questioning our unexpected arrival.

"Master Tyro," a slave by the name of Jordan called, his hands gripping the mouth harness of the horses, "what happened?" he asked, noting the blood that was smeared all over the master's body and clothing. Tyro didn't answer, he merely jumped from the wagon, gathering the children inside. I stepped down with the help of Jordan in the front and Zuko behind me, guiding me down gently. I straightened out my dress, taking in their looks of concern as they noted the blood and mud that coated my clothing as well. I merely bowed my head in thanks, then followed quickly after the master and the children, feeling Zuko coming up behind me quickly.

"What happened?" the children's Aunt Wu gasped as she bolted from the house. Her elegant dress swaying around her lithe form. She bent over, engulfing the children in a massive hug, her hand waving Zuko and I over to her. When we got close enough, I felt her hand latch onto my arm, pulling me into her embrace and watched as she did the same with Zuko, "Are you alright?" she asked us all. At first I didn't understand why she would be concerned for me, but remembered that she had told me long ago that she saw me as Tyro's daughter and that thought I was seen as a slave due to the color of my skin, that I was still a child. A child who needed to be tended to, who needed to be loved, who needed attention just like any other child. The master had told me the same thing long ago, but that was before his wife died and since that time, he has never uttered those words to me, but I can see them in his eyes. The way he looks at me is like a father to a daughter, but I am still to play the role of a servant of the household. I will not disappoint my master or his family and I will tend to their every need. But I will love them unconditionally as any sister would.

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**Zuko's Point of View:**

After the children were fed and put into bed by Aunt Wu and Katara, I watched as my aunt and father conversed about what had happened, about the loss of Lee and the bautching of the British soldiers. I felt my heart swelling at the mention of my brother's death and quickly walked away from the scene before me, looking for comfort somewhere, anywhere but there. As I walked down the hall, I walked past Katara's room. Her door was open and as my eyes lingered, I saw here sitting on the bed, her white night gown excentuating her womanly figure beautifully. She sat there, running her fingers through her wet locks, allowing them to curl under her touch. Her eyes rose up at the noise I made as my feet came in contact with the wooden floor boards and I couldn't help but notice her blushing slightly under my gaze.

"Would you like to come sit with me?" she asked, her hand patting the empty spot next to her.

I merely nodded, walking into the room silently. Slowly I lowered myself onto her bed, feeling it dip beneath my weight. She turned her back to me, pulling her hair to the side of her body and round her shoulder and in the softest tone she asked me, "Will you rub my shoulders?"

Smiling I reached up, my calloused hands gently resting on the exposed flesh and I could feel her tense slightly. But as my fingers began to move, as my thumbs began to kneed the tensed areas, I could feel her relax beneath my touch, "Earlier, in the wagon," I began, but her soft moan stopped me.

"Don't worry about it," she responded while I had been distracted, "I'm sorry for my retort, it was uncalled for. I know I mean far more to your family," she hesitated slightly, "to you than just a slave." Her hand reached up, encompassing one of my own, "It means much to me that I have your love and your families love."

I don't know what came over me, but I found myself leaning forward, my lips pursing slightly as I pulled our hands away from the nape of her neck. Seductively my lips made contact, kissing tenderly the nape of her neck, up to the very flesh of her neck. She shivered beneath my touch, I felt my hands reaching around her body, cinching at her waist, pulling her into me. She tried to stop me, I could feel slight resistance, but when I cooed in her ear, "Please, just this once," she relaxed willingly, her nodding giving me all the more encouragement I needed to continue.

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**Katara's Point of View:**

His lips pressed into my flesh, a warmth brewed in the pit of my stomach, and my flesh prickled at his attentions. This was wrong, I couldn't do this, not now, not with him. But the way he kissed at my body, the way his lips longed for the taste of my flesh, the way my own body screamed for him to continue, I could not deny it any longer. I had wanted this, no, needed this just as much as he did and so when he whispered to me, "Please," heavily, coated with lust, "just this once," I felt all the resolve and strength to fight him suddenly vanish, knowing that this was something that needed to be shared between two individual beings who had suffered a great loss together. This was comfort, it was love in the greatest form and it was something that I only wished to share with Zuko, my best friend, "My love," I whispered softly as I leaned into his touch, begging him to continue.

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**So guys, what did ya think? Like I said, this will follow the Patriot somewhat, but it will also follow my own twists, this being one of them! Review, let me know what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thanks so much for the favs, hits and of course, the reviews!**

**TheSilentMaiden: I'm truly honored that my story has compelled you to review! I'm happy that you have enjoyed this fanfic so far and am glad that, though the summary was a bit sucky, you gave the fic a chance!**

**KataraXZukoFTW: I'm sorry! I know leaving it there was like a slap in the face for most, but eh, keeps ya coming back, doesn't it? And it was sad to kill Lee off, but such are the casualties of war. **

**AnnaAza: I love this fic to! I'm glad you enjoy it greatly as well and I hope you keep on keepin on. Also, just a not, I am enjoy your "Acts of Kindness" fic, very good btw! **

**Now, on with the chapter! Also, it's kinda short, but it is important! Much happens in tiny chapters, just sayin.**

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**Zuko's Point of View:**

To love, to want, to need. The desire to please and be pleased, to know that you are all one sees in that moment, and they are all you see. To hold another, pressed against your flushed body, becoming one in every way, that is what it means to love. To be one.

In the aftermath of our lovemaking, my fingers slowly trace through Katara's dark, curled locks as she rests her head against my bare chest. I feel her body, her breasts pressing deeper into my skin, the warmth radiating from her is intoxicating. Our breaths are matched, calm and steady, but our hearts, pounding with such sunder that I couldn't help but fear what would happen next. When two humans bond in such ways, they are linked together for life. They have shared a connection so deep that they will always remember, even if they have long surpassed their feelings for one another.

Softly I sigh, my mind is reeling with hundreds of thoughts, but I cannot seem to stick on any particular thought. The exotic creature in my arms continues to evade my mind. For a moment though, I wonder if we have done a terrible deed or if perhaps, we were right in our explorations. To say that I did not enjoy the time I have shared with her, would taste a lie, but to say that I am fully prepared to take on any and all consequences that may derive from this, I cannot say. From such deep connections, life is created, I cannot be a father, not now at least and least of all with a slave. And yet, when such words pass through my mind I cannot help but cringe, for Katara is far more than a slave to me. But to society, that is all she will ever be. I hope, that with this new democracy, that situations like Katara's and mine can become legal and void of all frowning and dissatisfaction, but I know that will never be.

Again a sigh escapes my lips and this time, Katara takes notice, "Are you alright?" her voice is barely a whisper as she shifts on my chest, her blue orbs looking up at me with curiosity.

I cannot help but smile tenderly down at her as I push back her rich locks, "I'm fine, just thinking about some things," I whisper back, "go back to sleep." Slowly I lean my head down slightly, pecking her on the lips before I hear a heavy sigh escape her and she rests her head against my chest once more.

Again my fingers run through her hair, padding down softly as I continue to ponder. I only hope that our actions tonight will not cause any more travesties, lord knows we cannot afford any more. But I will not say that this isn't what I wanted, that my first time to make love, truly make love was with a woman that I love, for I love Katara more than I can describe. And for that, in my eyes, it will never be a mistake or a deed of not wanting.

As I continue to think to myself, I shift my gaze out the window, watching as the autumn leaves stir with the wind.

**Katara's Point of View:**

Shortly after I stirred, I fell back into a deep slumber for the rest of that night and all morning as I am preparing breakfast for the children and the master, I cannot help but recall moments of last night. My hand grips tightly on the cast iron skillet as I remember how he felt inside of me, and I quickly chastise myself, biting my lower lip.

As I butter the toast, I cannot help but think of the way his kisses sent spine tingling chills up and down my spine, forcing my skin to bristle and bump all over. The way his hands would roam over my body, forcing my heart to race or my breathing to become shallow and the way he—

"Katara?" someone calls my name and I quickly snap out of my reminiscence. I can feel my cheeks heating up as I cannot believe that I would think of such things at a time like this!

I wipe the food contents from my hands onto my apron as I approach the dining area, "Yes?" I replied.

The master is sitting down at the head of the table, the children's aunt stands behind him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder and both are staring at me with intent eyes. If only the children were around to gather at their sides and feet, they would be ready for a family portrait. I can feel my heart racing wildly in my chest, what could they possibly want? Did they hear me last night with Zuko? Am I in trouble for what I was 'commanded' to do? Not that I was complaining, for I wanted it all just the same.

"Katara," Tyro began, "please, sit," he extended his hand outwards towards a chair next to him. Slowly I approach, pulling the chair out from the table to sit myself down delicately, waiting for his order or rant or whatever may come.

"Katara, ever since my wife died, I put much responsibility on you to help me raise my family, children who only junior you by a few years to one that seniors you. You've seen me through all my trials and tribulations, you've seen me fall from the top of the mountain, only to climb back up it once more and," he paused, his eyes closing and his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose, he took a deep breath, "what I'm trying to say is, what you witnessed yesterday, what I did, I am sorry you had to see that. I'm sorry that any of my children had to witness that."

My heart fluttered in relief, "Master, you did what any grieving parent would have done if capable. I cannot judge you, because my status does not permit me such liberties, but if I could, I would not. For I know that I too would have done the same as you."

I watched as a sympathetic smile crossed his features and I slowly began to get up to excuse myself, "Thank you," he whispered to me, "for everything."

I nod with a smile, leaving words unspoken as I make my way out into the kitchen to continue my work on the morning meal.

**Zuko's Point of View:**

When I wake, the place in whence she slept is vacant, void of all warmth. I sigh as I push the covers away, kicking my legs over the side of the bed. With a muffled sigh, my hands run up and down my face. Something in the air smells divine, and I find myself dressing faster than usual due to an emptiness in my stomach. That's where she must of gone, downstairs to cook breakfast for the family.

As I put on my uniform, cleansed of blood, I begin to slowly button the golden buttons from bottom to top. My hands running along my coat to smooth out any and all creases that may present themselves. I know what I must do, but doing it will be hard. I know that my father will not be thrilled with my decision, but it is mine and mine alone. I am a soldier, a new born child of an American nation and as such, it is my duty, nay my privilege to stand and fight for my country.

"Breakfast!" I hear Katara's voice call up the stairs. The sound of hurried feet stomp past my door and I cannot help but chuckle to myself. If I don't get down there, there won't be any food left.

**Katara's Point of View:**

I watch as he enters the room, his eyes are on me, I can feel them, burning into my back with seething passion. But when I turn to him, I am stopped by the clothes he wears and I cannot help the tears that swell up in my eyes. The room silences as he places his musket against the wall, his satchel taking refuge on the ground next to it. Tyro watches his son carefully as he eats, as I too watch Zuko carefully, trying to understand why he is doing this to his family, to me. But, as much as I hate to admit it, Zuko is a soldier, his duty is to his country, no matter how much it makes my heart ache.

After the children finished eating, I escorted them upstairs, all the while looking back at Zuko, hoping he would return my gaze but he does not. And I cannot help but feel a sinking in my chest that feels as though it will suffocate me.

"Let's get you ready," I cleared my throat, scooting the boys into their room to help prepare them for the day ahead.

**Zuko's Point of View:**

I watched as she stood there, silent and weary, her eyes never wavering from me, my uniform. She knew I had made my decision and I could tell she was pining, but this was something I couldn't run away from. Even if I could, I wouldn't, for I am true to the cause. But it does hurt to leave her, especially after such an emotional bonding, but I cannot help that fact. Throughout breakfast, it was quiet. I could feel my father's eyes on me, my aunt's eyes on me, luckily the only ones not starring at me were my siblings, perhaps because they were too engrossed with Katara's cooking to notice anything else.

But after she took them upstairs, I knew that now was the time to broach the subject, "Hakoda and the Continental Army are at Hillsborough," I began slowly, taking a small drink of the water before me. From the corner of my eye, I note that my father is stiffening in his seat with each passing word, "I'm joining up with them." I declared.

"Zuko," my aunt Wu snapped softly, supposedly not believing that I would make said choice.

But before I got the chance to say a word, my father interjected, "No, your place is here now—" but I couldn't help but cut him off.

"I'm going back. I'm a soldier, it's my duty," which was true, but I could see the disappointment and anger in my father's eyes, along with my aunt's.

I could tell that this was hard for my father, I knew it was, it was hard for me. But it was the right thing to do, and to just abandon the military at a fragile time like this, was considered treason, so when he began to speak of duty, "Your duty is to your family," I pushed myself away from the table, grabbing my musket and satchel back with the dispatches and begin to walk towards the front of the plantation home. I can hear the scrapping of my father's chair as he forces it backwards, his boots resonate echoes in my ears as he approaches and my aunt's soft clacking heels follow suite, "don't you walk away from me boy."

When he yells that, I cannot help but feel my anger swelling deep in my chest, but I continue onward, trying not to have an argument with him in front of my siblings, his children, "I'm sorry father, I'll find you when this is all over," I call over my back forcefully, hoping he will somehow understand that I am doing the right thing.

"No, you're not going, I forbid you to go," he yelled at me as I began to reach for the doorknob and that seemed to be the breaking point. Why I hadn't the faintest idea, but I wasn't going to let him treat me like I was a child.

Spinning on my heels I yell forcefully at him, "I'm not a child."

But he is quick to correct me, making the pain in my chest swell even more, "You're my child," and I watch as his face falls slightly at the comment and cannot help but doubt leaving for an instant. But I felt as if this was a plot to keep me here and that wasn't, nor could it happen.

"Goodbye father," I turned away before making the foolish mistake allowing him room to talk and ripped the door open forcefully, making my way down the plantation home's steps. My horse already for me like I had ordered last night before I had gone in for the night.

"Zuko!" my father yells my name. With a heavy sigh, I still in my movements, waiting for him to finish what he wanted to say. When he spoke, his words were like knives to my heart, "Lee is dead, how many more will have to die before you heed my word?" With that, I couldn't help but look over at him in disbelief. How could he say that to me? Did he think I wasn't aware of my brother's death? Did he not think that I blame myself for his death? If I hadn't of come home, Lee would still be alive, he wouldn't of had any reason to save me. And I would be ridden of this guilt.

I lock my jaw, turning away from my father's form and quickly mount my steed. I take one look up at the balcony to see my siblings gathering together, looking down on me with saddened eyes. But when Katara comes behind them, I cannot help but linger for a few more moments before rushing off down the gravel road.

"Goodbye, Katara," I whisper to myself, hoping, praying that one day we will see one another again.

**Katara's Point of View:**

I watch as he rides away, my heart sinking with every inch he flees. He has taken a part of me with him, a part that I so desperately wish to get back one day. Hopefully, our paths will cross once more. But for now, I must resort to letters and faith, hoping that the good lord preserves him, our love and finally puts an end to this war.

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**So what did you think guys? Good, bad, ugly? Lol, be honest, tell the truth!**


	5. Chapter 5

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**AN: Ok, so here is the next chapter! Sorry it took so long! I hope you guys enjoy.

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**Katara's Point of View:**

I couldn't breathe. It felt like someone had carved a whole in my chest where my heart was. As much as it pained me to see him go, I knew it was his duty to this new born country we shall one day call, America. He is a soldier, and I love him. He is a dedicated man, and I loathe him. There are so many emotions that have rumbling inside me like rapids that I do not think I can contain them for much longer. To only make matters worse, Master Tyro has declared himself an activist in the revolutionaries' forces. He too is leaving us. My only hope is that he will find Zuko and watch over him, for both our sakes.

So, it is with a heavy heart that I help the master with his uniform. It is black with fine copper trimming. Copper buttons run long down either side, his white flannel shirt standing out against the contrasting black. His hair is pulled back, like always and tucked beneath his arm is his hat. His musket clutched in one hand as he slings his satchel over his shoulder with the other. I secure his shirt, button his vest and press my hands from the top, run them long down to the bottom to smooth out any wrinkles. My heart is pounding violently. It feels as though it is going to burst. I cannot bear to lose another to this war, not Master Tyro and especially not Zuko. I love them both and I will miss them when they have long left us for the desires of man.

As I put the finishing touches to his uniform, I feel his eyes on me, wearily noticing a change in me, "Katara," my name was raspy off his tongue, but I looked up at him anyways, "he'll be fine," he assured me, and I felt as though my heart froze at that moment. Did he, did he hear us last night? Oh God! I couldn't take such embarrassment, I felt like a trapped child and slowly I began to back away from Tyro.

"I know," I stuttered, my voice barely rising above a whisper, "but it is not only the young master I am concerned about," I continued, covering up my lie with some truth, "it is also you, master. I pray that God delivers you back to us safely, as well as the young master Zuko." I bow my head, playing the part of an obedient slave, waiting for his words to sunder me into a respectable stance.

I heard him shift, "Katara, Zuko and I will be fine. I swear to you, we will be," with that, he lifted my face with his forefinger pressing against my chin. His eyes sparkled with something I had never witnessed before. And with that, he brushed past me fervently, me and the children hot on his tale. He walked down the wooden planked porch, giving his children and their aunt hugs and kisses. When he pulled me into a hug, I felt my face reddening, "You've always been like a daughter to me, a mother to my children, and a lover to my son," he whispered in my ear, my heart fell into the pit of my stomach at that last part, "you are no longer a slave, Katara. But a member of this family," he pulled me away from his embrace, pecking me on the cheek tenderly before having his attention snagged by one of the children.

"When will you be back father?" little Chen inquired and I felt my heart tugging at his plea.

Tyro knelt down to his son's level, his hands gripping tenderly on either arm, "I don't know," Tyro responded, followed by Chen's, "tomorrow?" I couldn't help but smile softly as I placed a comforting hand on Chen's shoulder, "No, not tomorrow," Tyro he pulled little Chen into a small embrace before pulling back, "remember to say your prayers," he ordered before standing slowly.

I watched as his eyes landed on the Tero and heard him sigh heavily as he pulled him into an embrace, waving their hair with his hands before pulling back, "Take care of your siblings and your aunt, God knows she'll need looking after," he joked as he moved past Aunt Wu and knelt before Ani. She stood before Azula, her hand clutched tightly into the fabric of Azula's dress as she watched her father lower himself before her.

"Ani?" he asked as he picked her up, "Goodbye," and I watched as his eyes scanned hers for something, waiting for her to utter her first words to him, but she did not. She only held onto her dolly and stared blankly at her father as he continued to stare back. Her brow knitted together and her lower lip pouted out, she looked as if she were about to cry, but she held it in. Tyro pulled her to his lips, and I watched as they graced her forehead before he eased her back down onto the ground. She grasped hold of Azula once more.

But the interaction that I witnessed between the Master and the children's aunt startled me. He approached her, lingering for a moment or two, as if hesitating in some way. I watched as his eyes flickered about her face, watching as he body instinctively leaned forward, but then pull back in realization, "Thank you," he whispered before looking at the rest of us, all our eyes were upon them. Wu nodded silently, I watched as her shoulders sank in depression and her head lifting slowly to meet Tyro's gaze as he mounted his steed.

My fingers, with minds of their own, lifted to my cheek where a small amount of moisture remain from his kiss and my eyes rose to his frame, "Watch over the children," he ordered the children's aunt, "and be safe," with that, he ordered his steed to bolt down the massive stretched cobble stone drive, disappearing behind the trees as he made his turn to the east.

**

* * *

Zuko's Point of View:**

I rode for what seemed like an eternity, my mind consumed by the last portrait I had of Katara. Watching her as she stood tall and proud next to my siblings, her eyes glazed over with sad tears and every time that face flashed before my eyes, I felt my heart aching with a pain I cannot describe. My fingers grip the reigns tightly as I begin to approach an abandoned plantation home, by the looks of it, it was recently deserted…that could only mean one thing.

I dug my heels into my steed's sides, commanding him to charge forward. Just as I was about to turn into the drive, a wagon, filled with trinkets and valuables stormed through, rushing past me at a dangerous speed. A man, single in his quest pinned down his hat as the wagon tipped slightly, the reins cracking as he forced his horses to go faster. For a moment I wondered why he had fled in such a hurry, but when my horse began to fidget, and the earth began to shake beneath us, I knew what had caused the robber to flee so quickly.

With a sigh, I command my horse into a trot, taking me down the ghostly drive, inching towards the plantation. As I find myself inching closer, I cannot help but notice how poorly pillaged the plantation is. Looters left behind many valuables in their attempts to flee. Pottery was smashed and strung across the gravel, clothes and fine linens were hanging off railings and pieces torn against the trees. Windows were smashed open, glass shattering the outside wraparound porch…which was odd, and the front door, wide open. Carefully, I pull the reins, causing my horse to still in its approach and slowly slide from the saddle, my musket in hand I entered the home.

The inside looked much like the outer journey up here. Things were carelessly thrown a stray, drawers were opened and items were hanging from all sorts of places. Pictures were unhinged, hanging crookedly along the wall. The place was an absolute mess. Then, as I began to leave, I heard the familiar sound of cannons being shot off in the distance and to my relief there was an entire wall of open bay windows overlooking the plantations crops. I approached cautiously, my eyes greeted with an eerily familiar sight.

Red lined up on one side of the battlefield, blue on the other. Massive forces marched towards their enemy, muskets at the ready. Cannons line the rear, being simultaneously lit then fired. Cannon balls flying with no direct destination, smothering anything in their pathway. My ears were greeted with the high pitched sounds of flutes whistling their tunes, drummers barraging away at the animal skinned drums and the terror filled screams that ignited from battle. It was a gruesome sight, war was never pretty. With a cringing pain, I turned away only to see someone I rather not see standing directly behind me, his eyes locked on the scene just beyond the glass windows.

Before I even thought of asking him what he was doing here, I declared in a mumbled fashion, "I'm not going back," only slap myself mentally for speaking without question his reasons for following me.

"No," he sighed as he slowly approached the window, I watched him diligently as he spoke, "I didn't expect you would," I turned to face the window, bringing my arm up to rest against its frame, listening to him sigh, "that Lee is a damned fool. He spent too many years in the British army. Going mussel to mussel with the redcoats in an open field, its madness," he spat out softly, my mind swimming at his words.

We watched in silence as the redcoats advanced, their commanding officer yelling, "Make ready! Present arms! Fire!" suddenly smoke filtered the air as a loud resonating sound echoed down the line, on the opposition bluecoats were dropping like flies, literally and it seemed that my father had a point. We couldn't fight mussel to mussel with the brute strength of the British army, it was suicide. We watched from afar, as the American forces fell back and sighed in defeat. I knew my father was not here to take me home, but rather here to join forces with General Lee. Something I was not looking forward to.

Quickly we made our escape through the backwoods, crossed the river and found ourselves trotting into camp. The wounded from the battle were being tended to. Some were having limbs removed, others having bullets pried from their flesh. Everywhere I looked, blood coated my vision. Physicians were covered in it, the wounded drowned by it and I, consumed by it. It was gruesome, repulsive and made my stomach churn with such force that I almost lost my breakfast. Together my father and I rode deeper into camp where I knew we would find General Lee.

We weaved through the wounded soldiers who were pouring in like running water and I noticed that the General's tent was just ahead. My father saw it as well and began to approach. I soon followed, but something caught my eye. A flag, mangled and tattered by the ways of war, lay bundled and crumbled up in a heap near a wounded soldiers feet. I knelt down, my fingers grasping the rough fabric, my digits slipping through the various holes and I felt myself smiling slightly. Mud caked its entirety, and as I began to rise, the soldier spoke to me, "It's a lost cause," he sneered. As I took a look up at the man that dared utter those words, I noticed bandaging across his left eye, sweat and grease molesting his face and his teeth chattered together as if either cold or ill. My eyes lingered down to the flag in my hands and as I gazed down at the red, white and blue stripes, accompanied by thirteen stars, I felt something snap inside me. Roughly I began to shove the flag into my satchel, I would fix this flag, restore it to its former glory. And as I walked away, I gave a deathly stare at the man before turning an iced back to him.

As I trailed up on my father's tail, I couldn't help but notice that General Lee's horse was not present, and I began to wonder, "Where's your comrade, General Lee at now?" I heard my father question and slowly inched closer towards the open flap of the tent.

The man who answered him was none other than General Hakoda, the man I happily served under with no protest, "Well, last anyone saw, riding hard northeast, his staff a hundred yards behind trying to catch up," I heard General Hakoda note.

I entered slowly, standing only a few feet from my father, "So who's in command now?" he asked.

General Hakoda, who was second in command of this encampment sighed as he rose, leaning against a support beam of his tent, "I am," he crossed his arms, looking over at me then back at my father, confusion knitting his brow, "I think."

I couldn't help but smirk inwardly at his features, he was disgruntled and begrudged. His hair was a mess and sweat beaded across his brow, "What are my orders," I heard my father reply back and watched as General Hakoda straighten his back slightly, giving my father the once over. He smiled wiry as he approached, his hand reaching out to wrap around my father's shoulder and he began to lead him deeper into the tent.

I followed suit silently, my eyes resting on several maps that were sprawled out across General Hakoda's desk, "We're a breath away from losing this war, Tyro," the general began, "from the North, General Iroh is reeling from Morris Town," his fingers stroked the northern face of the map, small markers indicating locations, "hiding from twelve thousand redcoats, and from the south," his fingers dragged south, "Long Feng has broken our back, capturing five thousand of our troops when he took over Charles Town."

"And he destroyed the only army between him and New York," my father interjected as he glanced over at Hakoda before taking a deep breath, "so now there's nothing to stop him from heading north to destroy Iroh."

"Unless we can keep Long Feng in the south til the French arrive," I watched as my father's back stiffened as he made a glance Hakoda's way, "they promised a fleet and ten thousand troops," Hakoda continued.

My father's voice was soft, "When?"

Hakoda pulled away from the map, though I knew his eyes still lingered on it, "Six months at the earliest," he sighed, his hand wrapping around the base of his neck, massaging it tenderly.

"You actually trust the French to keep their word?" my father questioned and I was beginning to wonder the same thing. What happen next though, caught me and my father by surprise.

"Absolutely," a thick, French accented voice declared in a sneer.

Both my father and myself stiffened when the Frenchman rose from his seat, I hadn't noticed him before, "Tyro Martin, Major Pakku Izu," Hakoda introduced them, neither shaking one another's hand, "he's here to train the militia."

I watched as the two stared one another down before the Frenchman spoke, "Tyro Martin, the hero of Fort Wilderness," the man nodded his head to my father and suddenly I began to wonder what exactly happened at Fort Wilderness that my father refused to tell me, "Your reputation precedes you."

My father made eye contact with me, then with Hakoda before speaking, "You really expect to hold Long Feng here with just militia?" it truly was an absurd idea, but, by the way Hakoda acted, I knew he was serious.

"Not me, you," he retorted and my father but snickered, thinking it was a joke.

"Hakoda their not soldiers, their farmers," my father replied, his laugh all but gone, a look of seriousness taking over his feature, he had a point there, "they'd be better off letting the British just march right through them."

"They'd be better off, but the cause wouldn't," General Hakoda responded as he began to wrap around the table.

My father sighed, "How many men does Long Feng have under his command?"

Hakoda began to scribble words down onto some parchment as he spoke, "Eight thousand infantry and around six hundred Calvary. I'm giving you field commission as a Colonel," Hakoda continued to write.

"Might I request sir that you transfer my son here under my command," my father requested and I felt my blood boil. I interjected with an interrupted, "Sir no, I" and tried holding up the dispatches but General Hakoda cut me off mid way.

"It's done," finality coated his tone.

I couldn't help but give my father an icy glare as he uttered a mere, "Thank you."

We exited General Hakoda's tent, my blood boiling with something fierce, but restrained myself from lashing out at my father, nay my Colonel, "Colonel, I've been a soldier now for two years, as a scout, horseman marksmen, scavenger," I began, trying to make him change his mind.

"Is that so?" my father asked me as we approached our horses, the Frenchman Paku Izu following behind us.

"Yes sir," I stated as I sighed alongside my father as we continued forward, "I could be better service with the regulars," but by the look he was giving me and the way I knew my father, I knew I wasn't going to get anywhere.

But my father continued, "And where'd you learn all that riding, shooting, scavenging?" he inquired.

Is he really going to make me say this?

"My father, sir," I reply, my jaw locking as I clamp it shut.

We both mounted our steeds, pulling the reins tightly in our grasps and I couldn't help but let out a disgruntled groan, "Teach you any humility?" he asked me, my attention averting back to him quickly.

I smirked, knowing that I wouldn't get out of my predicament and decided to be frank with him, "Tried, but it didn't take," I shrugged my shoulders, my eyes glancing over my father's shoulder to see Paku's gaze focused on us.

My father cleared his throat, "He also taught you every deer path and swamp trail between here and Charles town," he paused, I knew what was coming next, "which is why I asked for your transfer," I nodded my head as I turned my gaze away, listening as he continued, "We'll put the word out, start on the south side of the Shallotte Ri—v" though I wasn't going to be getting out of this situation any time soon, I at least would like to have a few more days to myself before completely yielding my services to my father.

"We'll cover more ground if we split up," I interrupted him.

For a moment he was silent, his eyes glancing down at his horse as he leaned forward, his knuckles turning rather ghostly white before he cleared his throat, his eyes meeting mine, "Very well, Corporal, you take Harrisville, Hem Brooke and Wakefield, I'll take north of the Shallotte River. We'll meet at the old Spanish mission in the black swamp."

It was an order, one I was willing to comply with, "Yes sir," I replied, a small smirk gracing my lips. I pulled tightly to the right with the reins, directing my horse to venture out, away from the camp, but my father called to me.

"Corporal," I turned around, my eyes pleading him to not already have changed his mind, "be careful," he ordered, his tone softer than before.

With a smile I nodded, "Yes sir," and began riding off into the distance.

**

* * *

Tyro's Point of View:**

I watched as he rode off, disappearing through the bodies that canvassed the camp and with a sigh I turned to see my French companion sitting atop his steed, alongside me, "Have any children?" I asked, watching for a moment as he glanced in the direction my son had just taken off in before turning away abruptly, forcing his horse into a trot. With a sneer, "French," I followed suit. It was going to be a long journey, I could feel it.

* * *

**So, what did you guys think? I know this chapter lacked Zutara, but trust me, its coming! Let me know what you think!**


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